


An Enigmatic Wedding

by CloverTheGrand



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Action & Romance, Adam Young Still Has Powers (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley are Adam Young's Godfathers (Good Omens), Body Swap, Conspiracy Theories, Espionage, F/F, Final Battle, Heaven & Hell, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Lack of Communication, Lowkey? More like gureilla espionage really, Lucifer is an oc tho, M/M, Mystery, Original Character(s), Plot Twists, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Michael (Good Omens), She/Her Pronouns for Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens), Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23354827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloverTheGrand/pseuds/CloverTheGrand
Summary: A year after Armageddidn't, Crowley and Aziraphale receive an invitation from Heaven and Hell-- an invitation to the wedding of Lucifer Morningstar and Archangel Michael. Since Heaven and Hell had vowed to be a lot more diplomatic with each other, a wedding was planned in order to unite both sides. It was a solution apparently everyone below and up high agreed would be beneficial.Adam Young agreed to visit the wedding so that he may put a stop to whatever plan Heaven and Hell had, and Aziraphale and Crowley accompanied him there because frankly enough, Adam was still just a child. After everything Heaven and Hell put them through, they could not find themselves trusting either side too much. Which was perhaps why they couldn't help but notice the lies rampant throughout the wedding's prologue that alluded to a bigger plot at work.But the more they come to investigate all this, the more they realise just how complicated both Heaven and Hell could be.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Michael/Satan | Lucifer (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22





	1. How Art Thou Fallen from Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> My WIPs are judging me so hard now.
> 
> Anyway yes-! I listened to a song for nostalgia's sake and now I've got a whole bunny farm dedicated to this fic in operation. The song contains major spoilers however so I can't share it right now. 
> 
> Hopefully, I can finish this fic soon and get to the awesome parts. Aaaaaa.

In the beginning, the demons fell into a pit of boiling sulphur. 

The passage of time was all but irrelevant as they screamed and writhed in pain in a place too hot, too crowded, and too pungent. Their bones twisted into their new forms as the fabric of their being was corrupted. No longer were they angels, but the fallen. 

She was the first one to climb out of the pit. 

Lucifer Morningstar, the leader of the rebellion. Her robes were burnt to rags, her wings crooked and singed. A pair of horns protruded out of her forehead, the same pair from when she had transformed into a dragon during the final battle. The Almighty had cursed her so that her hands and feet were the silver talons she had as in her dragon form. When she turned around to pull the other demons out of the pit, Crowley saw that her eyeballs were steel blue all over, lest for those reptilian pupils in the shape of diamonds.

There was a wound in the centre of her chest where Michael plunged a flaming sword. The wound was still open, and it oozed black.

They were tired. There were sore. It seemed to all of them back then that this was their end. But Lucifer refused to accept that fate. She delivered an oration about injustice, liberation, and survival in this barren new world. Convinced everyone, even, that this life was an opportunity to live free from the unforgiving glare of Heaven’s eyes. 

Crowley believed it all at the time, and even if a part of him did not, he still wanted to. Perhaps this new life will be a place where he will belong somewhere, no longer just himself, alone building stars that no one visited. They were all outcasts, after all, and in theory, no one else would be able to better understand them than each other.

Oh, how lied to he was.

Lucifer immediately drafted them all into a plan to ruin humankind, starting with Adam and Eve inside their garden. And the demons agreed, so that they may all vent their frustration towards the lies and ignorance of the Almighty. She sorted them all out into a strict hierarchy with an iron fist. She held an operation to find the garden of Eden. While travelling, she made sure to talk with each and every one of them. It was a calculative act to trick them all into thinking that unlike God, Lucifer will be there to listen to their grief. And then she saw potential in Crowley. His nature to always question, his abilities to taunt. So when they all arrived upon the foot of Eden’s walls, Lucifer said to him: “there is an apple growing on the tree of knowledge which, when consumed, will reveal the truth of good and evil to the consumer, so that they will know just as much as the Almighty. It’d be a disaster if either Adam or Eve ate it-- She doesn’t intend for them to touch it at all. I really do wonder what would happen if humans gain so much knowledge too early. Don’t you?” 

And so Crowley became the serpent of Eden. 

It was after he returned from the garden when Crowley had learnt the truth. Lucifer orated Crowley’s act to the newly-fallen demons as a victory for their kind against the Almighty’s tyranny. Crowley was an example to follow-- only the most clever, resourceful of the demons would survive in this new world. It was then when Crowley realised that Hell would be just like Heaven. 

Six thousand years passed. While the other demons of Hell scrambled to climb up the social ladder, Crowley was content with staying in the bottom tier. It was a position so low that Crowley, despite his fame, was out of touch of Hell’s inner social circles. And so Crowley saw Lucifer less and less until all he ever heard of her was through the word of demons and rough commands spoken through radios in a voice never hers. 

Lucifer, too, seemed to have lost whatever image she had when she was still an angel. Satan was a male persona Lucifer had invented before the revolution so that she may orate her protests anonymously. But then it came to be a persona every leader of the revolution, and later the Dark Council, used. Perhaps Satan was simply who Lucifer was all along. They both worked themselves into people through something as innocent as a few words, releasing the worst of the victim out into the world. She was the one who realised the talents of the Dark Council, after all.

Crowley knew something was gravely wrong when the pavement of Tadfield Air Base quaked during the dawn of the failed Armageddon. As this Satan erupted and roared, wings tattered like that of bats, a crown of horns upon his head, Crowley knew that this was no longer Lucifer, Heaven’s favourite daughter, but a monster. 

The past was in the past, and with Adam ordering humanity to be untouched by Heaven and hell, Crowley was glad that that past was behind him. Hell had taken him away from Aziraphale for too long as a result of their petty feud with Heaven. He belonged with Aziraphale on Earth, where they were on their own side and happy together.

They both knew that Heaven and Hell would no longer bother them and leave them to their own accords. So far, they had kept their word. While they suspected that messages and notes from them would be inevitable, 1 year had passed since Aziraphale and Crowley had heard anything from them. And at last, they felt a mutual sense of relief to know that they will likely not hear from either side for good. 

And so they were very shocked when the Archangel Gabriel appeared in front of their home in the South Downs, a letter in his hands. What could it be? Why now? What did Heaven and Hell want from them? But it was the content of the letter which shocked them even more.

It was an invitation to the wedding of Lucifer Morningstar and Archangel Michael.


	2. Copperleaf, Carnations, and Yarrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale recover from the contents of the invitation. Meanwhile, Adam received his own copy, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m planning to do one update every two days since I want this entire fic published so badly. Fingers crossed?

It all started in the morning when they heard a knock at the door just after they had finished breakfast. When Aziraphale answered the door, Gabriel handed him an envelope with a wide, sheepish grin on his face. He attempted to make some friendly small talk with Aziraphale, though it was absolutely dreadful, and then disappeared in a flash of lighting as quickly as when he had arrived.

Crowley looked over Aziraphale’s shoulder and frowned at the rather large burn stain on the steps before wrinkling his nose. The smell of smoke scratched the inside of his nostrils every time he drew in a breath. Would need at least six scrubbings to scrub out all the soot from the concrete.

He jumped out of his skin as lighting struck the same spot and Gabriel returned. “Oh, and hello to you too, Crowley!” Gabriel stretched out a grin one would only do during a dental checkup, flashing both rows of his pearly white teeth. “Don’t be doing too many temptations, you hear? Keeping a healthy balance between good and evil and all that.” An uncomfortably condescending wink later, Gabriel turned around, bent down, and made a furious retching sound before he was gone in another flash of lightning. By now, a wisp of smoke rose from where Gabriel stood, and the entire surface was stained black. Great, now it will need twelve.

Crowley closed the door so that he and Aziraphale did not have to be flashed by Gabriel’s face again. As he guided Aziraphale back inside to the couch, Crowley shuddered.

“Angel, did Gabriel try to have small talk with both of us?”

“I’m afraid so,” Aziraphale replied, disbelief plastered on his poor face. His face and hair had a light dusting of soot because he was the one at the frontline of Gabriel’s torment. What shit luck.

Crowley miracled a damp flannel and gave it to Aziraphale, who promptly used it to wipe his face. Aziraphale’s gaze was, however, focused on the envelope in his hands, even as they sat down onto the couch. He squinted, then dipped his head down closer. Crowley had thought that it was to read the envelope better until he saw that the tip of Aziraphale’s nose was touching the paper.

“Why’re you so close to it? Is that how small they made the handwriting?”  
  
“I smell oregano.”  
  
“Oregano?”

Aziraphale sat up and looked at the envelope with a puzzled expression. “Or perhaps rosemary. Hmm, honey?” He gave it another whiff. “Oh dear, there seems to be another scent. It has a sweet, peppery aroma. Something like cloves and sugar?”

Crowley gestured for Aziraphale to pass him the envelope and Aziraphale complied. He was right, there was a strong, sweet smell to the envelope. He brought it closer to his face and flickered his tongue out.

“Carnations,” Crowley declared. “That’s where you’re smelling the cloves, angel. Hmm...” he flickered his tongue out again, but the first scent Aziraphale noticed was a little harder to pinpoint. “Chrysanthemums? Nah, too earthy. Oh, hang on.” Crowley drew a long sniff in, then snapped open his eyes. “Yarrow.”

“Carnations and yarrow? An odd combination, I must say.”

“Something is up.”

“Pardon?”

“You know how the Victorians assigned all of those meanings for different flowers?”

Aziraphale squinted. “So... the fact that Heaven sent us an envelope with these two uncommon scents must have a hidden meaning!”

Crowley rubbed the back of his neck as he glared at the envelope. “Yeah. Heaven’s not screwing around with this.”

“Oh! Wait just a second, dear.” Aziraphale reached under the coffee table and rummaged through the book compartment under there. “I believe there’s a book about the language of flowers somewhere down here...”

While Aziraphale searched for the book, Crowley looked at the paper. It was a yellowing sort with a rough, speckled texture, a material coarser than what Crowley thought Heaven would use. Their names and address on the back were gilded in copperleaf. Didn’t Heaven prefer to use gold for their decorations? Association with Holiness and all that?

Crowley stroked his chin as he thought about the smell of yarrow. The plant had another name, but it was on the tip of his tongue. He swore that it was a name Heaven would not be too happy about, however.

“Carnations,” Aziraphale started. He had found the encyclopaedia, an old thing in cloth hardcover from the Victorian era. “Lots of meanings. Oh-! I see why they chose that scent. Carnations are thought to have been sprouted from the Virgin Mary’s tears when she saw Jesus carry his cross to Golgotha.”

“Love to hear how someone got to that conclusion.”

”It means motherly love, apparently.”  
  
“So... something happened to Mary or Jesus?”

“Or-! White ones symbolise luck. Pink, gratitude. Light red... affection.” Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows. “Red ones stand for romantic love.” Crowley widened his eyes and tossed the envelope into the middle of the coffee table. “But-! Purple ones symbolise capriciousness and yellow ones stand for disappointment!”

Something clicked at that. “Aziraphale?”  
  
“Yes?”

“Yarrow has another name. Devil’s nettle. Now, why would something from Heaven have a scent from a plant called devil’s nettle? Unless...?”

“Oh. Oh no. But it makes sense! Think about it! Gabriel’s friendly attempt to talk to you. The fact that this envelope is addressed to both of us. A plant with Holy connotations mixed with a plant with demonic ones, where one of them also relates to love...”

“No...”  
  
“Yes. No. Ahem. Utterly ridiculous. We should just ignore it.”  
  
They stared at the envelope anyway, which sat patiently upon the surface.  
  
The clock ticked.  
  
Then they both dived out of the couch and rummaged their house for a letter opener.

Crowley was the first one to find the letter opener, so he seized the envelope and opened its contents. A humble card floated out of it framed with feathers sketched in copper ink. He tried to grab it but Aziraphale grabbed it first, so Crowley pouted. Fair enough.

Aziraphale pulled a face and let out an exasperated squeak. Then he looked away as he turned the card for Crowley to read:

_Dear reader,_

_You are invited to the wedding of:_

_Lucifer Morningstar_ _  
_ _ & _ _  
_ _Archangel Michael_

_We will be delighted to have your company_

Crowley collapsed back onto the couch, and Aziraphale did, too. And so this brings us to the present. Aziraphale and Crowley had been sitting on the couch for 30 vital minutes in silence, recovering from the unfathomable news. At last, Crowley broke the silence.

“We’re not going.”

“Agreed.”

The front door slammed open, and Crowley was about to swear at Gabriel for not scorching the entrance again but barging in without a word. However, it was not Gabriel who stood at the entrance, but Adam.

The Them often visited their cottage in the South Downs during the school holidays, where they meet at the train station. There were times when Adam was too impatient to stand the hour-long train trip from Tadfield though, not to mention all the permission he had to get from his parents. So sometimes, Adam speeds up the journey by crossing a grove of beech trees near his house. It was dense in there-- hard to tell the grove was in Tadfield if anyone travelled down through it far enough. It wasn’t hard to imagine that one was walking in a beech tree grove in another part of the world. Of course, it was convenient that the cottage had a grove of beech trees nearby as well.

Adam usually brought Dog with him as well. Dog was nowhere to be seen. It was urgent.

He looked down for a floormat to wipe his feet, but when he saw all the soot, he opted to take off his trainers before walking into the cottage in his socks.

“Adam! What brings you here?”

He raised his head up, an exasperated look on his face. Then he lifted up his own copy of the wedding invitation.

“Oh no, not you too.”  
  
“Lucifer Morningstar... that’s...”

“Satan. Yes.”

Adam wrinkled his nose, a look of confusion on his face. “Why would he want to marry an angel? I don’t think it’ll even work. He looks so... ugly.”

Ah. Adam only saw him once at the airbase. “They, dear boy.” Aziraphale stroked his chin. “I believe Lucifer used to present as female when they were an angel. Satan, the version of Lucifer you saw at the airbase, was probably their true form. Hmm, any input Crowley?”

“Yeah, identity crisis.”

Adam’s eyes were on the coffee table. “You guys got an envelope with your card? Mine just appeared on my desk.”

“What? Without Gabriel showing up?”

He shook his head. “No. I don’t think so.”

“No one showed up at your doorstep? Not even someone who even vaguely looks angelic or demonic?”

“No, no one. I don’t think mine even has my name on it.” Sending mixed signals, are you, Luci? Crowley thought. “I’m going to the wedding,” Adam declared.

“What!”

“They obviously want me, but it’ll be just like at the airbase. I can just make it so that they’ll all go back home.” He crossed his arms and smirked. “I can bring backup too!”

Crowley shook his head. “It’ll be too risky to bring the rest of the Them there. Did they get invitations, too?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Then that might be a loophole that Heaven and Hell will use to do whatever they want with them.”

“Oh. But... you have invitations! You guys can take me there to Iran!”

“Iran?”

“Iran, where the wedding takes place.” Aziraphale and Crowley looked at the bottom of the card, and sure enough, there were details about the location. Arasbaran, Iran. In their exasperation, they did not read everything written on the card.

“You’re still a child, it’d be really dangerous for you,” Crowley said.

Adam twirled his thumbs around. “You know... you two _have_ both been there before, and it’ll be quite dangerous if I go to an unfamiliar country by myself...”

Crowley shot an uncertain look at Aziraphale. Aziraphale grimaced. They looked back at Adam, who wore a sweet, innocent expression. At that, their worries melted away like fairy floss in water. They both shrugged. How could they say no to that face? And besides. He needed supervising adults.

“Very well.”

A circle shape glowed on the paper of their invitation, the lustre similar to as if a light was placed under it. Then a line of light was traced to the centre of the circle, causing the symbol to look like a clock. However, the line was lopsided and pointed to the outside of the door. When Crowley picked it up and tilted the card, the needle stayed in the same position. A compass then.

Adam’s invitation had a compass symbol on it as well. It was clear what it meant. They had accepted, and so they will need to be there.

“Go back and pack your belongings, Adam. We’re going on a road trip.”


	3. Welcome to Arasbaran (in Persian)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the road trip was finished, they approach two Iranian park rangers guarding a book gate. Except that it was clear they weren’t Iranian park rangers.

Adam justified the trip by telling his parents that his godfathers would like to bring him to the wedding of an acquaintance of theirs over a long weekend. Mr. and Mrs. Young agreed, under the condition that Adam would have to wash the dishes for the rest of the holidays, of course. They did not let Adam take Dog-- but, they did not say anything about hiding Dog in the Bentley’s boot, so that was what Adam did.

During his last visit, Adam left his _Owl City_ CD in the Bentley. Unaware of the Bentley’s rules, he expected the song _Good Time_ to play, and instead, Queen’s _Don’t Stop me Now_ blasted through the speakers. They had a ball anyway as the Bentley took them to Iran. Unfortunately, even the good music of Queen wasn’t enough to enjoy the whole journey.

British road trip standards are incredibly short in contrast with the rest of the Anglosphere, such as in New Zealand, where the longest possible road trip was 29 hours when counting a 3 hour ferry ride between the two islands. The longest possible road trip on the island of Britain, on the other hand, only amounts to a measly 15 hours. As you could imagine, the average Briton could not possibly stand a road trip longer than the aforementioned time. However, since Iran was a foreign country, Crowley was able to be generous and add an additional one and a half hours to the trip.

So far, they had been driving for 16 hours, taking frequent stops for food, sleep, and toilet breaks. Though the scenery had changed from the quaint village of Tadfield to the grassy mountain ranges of Northwest Iran, they still had quite the way to go. Crowley did not always heed the directions of the card’s compass, and made frequent ‘short cuts’, driving in directions according to the general direction of where Arasbaran should be. Couldn’t always trust directions from something so double-dealing, after all.

They were on the last leg of their journey, and so Crowley had to resort to following the compass. Though the invitation did say to go to Arasbaran, it didn’t specify where in Arasbaran. Would be hard to expect anything if they ended up in the other side of the mountain ranges. The compass led them through a dirt road that cut through the middle of several groves of trees and miles of grass fields. Though Crowley, Adam, and Dog were bored out of their wits, Aziraphale made do with a few books he had been meaning to read, the invitation and its compass on his lap, curious to see how much Crowley decided to drift away from the direction. Perhaps it was the change of scenery which granted him inspiration, because suddenly, a metaphorical light bulb popped over his head.

“Ah! Gifts! We ought to have brought some!”

“Really, angel? Even when there’s the possibility that this ‘wedding’ is a trap? Antichrist, traitors, all that.”

“Yes, but they don’t know that we suspect that it’s a trap, and we don’t know how far down they’re going to keep that act up, either. So we could keep up the ruse while we figure out another plan.”

“Oh, like a Trojan horse!” Adam exclaimed. “We learnt about that in school last term. Hmm… well that means you two need to switch your gifts if we’re going to stay undetected. Crowley can give Michael’s, and Aziraphale can give Sa- Lucifer’s.”

Aziraphale considered Adam’s idea. “Well. They did imply that the wedding is symbolic of Heaven and Hell uniting, after all. The switched gifts would be the Trojan horse example, just layered.”

Crowley nodded. “Very clever. And how about you, Adam?”

“Why do I need to bring a gift? I’m just a kid.” Adam winked, and Dog yapped happily.

Crowley nodded. “So what does the radical dude like?”

Aziraphale chuckled at his reference, but then a realisation came upon him. “Erhm…” he closed his eyes as he recollected any recollections of Michael’s interests. Though there was a time when Aziraphale thought that he and the rest of the Archangels, including Michael, would become close acquaintances one day, the truth was Michael was a self-contained person who was uninterested with socialisation outside of networking and other business matters. So perhaps the gift could hint towards her patronage instead. “You know any more good Amer Picon brands, Crowley?”

“Amer Picon? That liquor French soldiers used to cure their Malaria?”

“Yes. There was a rumour that Michael helped patent Amer Picon so that it has good medicinal benefits. I imagine that even if she didn’t, with her patronage to soldiers, Michael would still appreciate the connotations. I trust that you know any good brands?”

Crowley stroked his chin. He stuck out his hand, then plucked an expensive bottle of Amer Picon out of the air. Somewhere in Monaco, a casino bartender looked in confusion at the empty space in the cabinet. “Hmm. Give me a second, angel. Let me think of what you can give to dear old Luci… ah. Well, anything with tobacco, really.”

“Did she, or they, invent smoking?”

“No. I think that was some bear demon. Anyway, we had a lot of obligatory orations during 1666. I _really_ hated 1666. But she was there, hosting an oration detailing Hell’s plans for that year. She- he? They? Yes, they had been experimenting with their public image a lot that year and recycled through a lot of different aesthetics. But Lucifer always had that tobacco pipe on them. Surprised you could even hear them speak with that damn thing in their gob.”

Aziraphale thought for a moment, then picked out a packet of Nat Sherman cigarettes. However, in fear that they weren’t enough, he replaced them with cigars. Somewhere in New York the next day, an accountant with urges for a relapse sighed in relief when he saw that the emergency cigars hidden in his bottom drawer had disappeared.

Dog perked up from licking his hind legs, as if he had heard something, and then leaned against the door to look outside of the window.

“What is it, boy?” Adam followed Dog’s gaze and looked out, perpendicular to the Bentley. However, there were only lawn-covered hills and tree groves with not a soul in sight. Dog continued to stare outside, however.

A particular wave of angelic and demonic energy caused Aziraphale to touch his temple. He looked down and saw that it came from the same direction as where the invitation’s compass pointed. “Well. Now we know what.”

Crowley slowed the Bentley down as they approached two guards in Iranian park ranger uniform who guarded a boom gate. Though they were disguised as human government employees, it was easy to sense that one of them was an angel and the other a demon. The boom gates weren’t surrounded by walls, too. Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows.

Crowley tilted his glasses down and squinted. “What kind of security is that? Look at it, smack-bang in the middle of an empty field. What’s stopping us from drifting off and entering there?”

“Ahem,” someone replied.

The Bentley skidded to a halt as that someone peeked into the driver seat’s open window. It seemed that one of the guards, a demon with an eyepatch and a thin handlebar moustache, decided to get a wiggle on and walk forward to check them.

“Purpose for visiting?” The demon inquired in rusty Persian. Crowley furrowed his eyebrows and shot a nervous glance at Aziraphale. Aziraphale remembered that Crowley’s Persian was even rustier. Luckily, Aziraphale was very fluent in Persian and had friendships with numerous Persian scholars and poets such as Rumi.

“Good morning! We’re here to attend a wedding this evening,” Aziraphale announced in the language. The demon cocked his head as his eye drifted to Aziraphale.

“A wedding in Arasbaran?”

“Yes, a wedding in Arasbaran.”

“Not a wedding in Azerbaijan?”

“Erhm, no, not a wedding in Azerbaijan.”

“Not a wedding in Aldebaran?”

“Aldebaran? That’s silly, that’s a star!” If the eyepatch demon was trying to keep up the ruse of a park ranger, he was doing a poor job at doing so.

The eyepatch demon raised his bushy eyebrows. Then he looked up and stroked his moustache, considering what Aziraphale had said.

“Psst,” By now an angel guard had walked over to the eyepatch demon as well. The Bentley rocked as Crowley jolted. Aziraphale tried to figure out why Crowley reacted the way he did, until he realised that that angel’s face looked familiar. Aziraphale had seen cameos of that face throughout history before, always shrouded in shadow. It was always when Crowley had to slink away into dark alleyways or go to an isolated corner in a crowded pub without another word. Aziraphale always swore there were two of them, one of which was another demon who he, thanks to the trial, now knew was Hastur. Ah. The guard must be Ligur.

However, there was not one trace of demonic energy in him at all. Ligur did not seem to react to Crowley either, even though he definitely should have seen him. This Ligur’s irises were an iridescent opal colour, something Aziraphale would definitely have remembered. White didn’t camouflage well in shadowy places, after all.

Crowley gulped. Aziraphale touched his hand in order to reassure him, and his shoulders tensed down. He could only imagine how it would be to see your old boss be resurrected into an amnesiac angel.

“Have you asked about their invitations?” The new Ligur continued in fluent Persian.

“You sure?” The eyepatch demon’s Persian was slipping away in fluency.

“Let me do the talking then. Do you all have invitations on you?” He asked as he faced Aziraphale, not one ounce of malice in his voice or eyes.

Aziraphale then showed the invitation to the new Ligur, symbol and all, who nodded with approval.

“And is the boy with you?”

They all looked at each other in disbelief.

“ _Sir_ ,” Crowley sarcastically spat out in questionable Persian, “that is the Antichrist?”

Ligur jolted back and clutched his chest. “Oh! Good Lord! Erhm…” No, Ligur definitely did not have any of his memories. Suspicion still slid Adam off like a duck, it seemed.

“I’ve got an invitation too, if that’s what you’re wondering.” Adam lifted his copy as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

The new Ligur frowned. The eyepatch demon looked at Aziraphale and Crowley’s invitation, and then at Adam’s. He leaned over to the new Ligur and whispered something into his ear.

“We will get back to you soon,” the new Ligur announced. Meanwhile, Ligur and the eyepatch demon went back into the boom gate’s booth and huddled together. Then they saw Ligur talk to a walky-talky, with a few nods and a few pleads. Finally, he stopped talking. “It is clear.” He lifted a lever, and then the boom gates lifted. “Welcome to Arasbaran.”

“Yes, welcome to Arasbaran,” the eyepatch demon echoed.

Aziraphale braced himself as Crowley revved the engine up and sped through the boom gates as soon as they rose up.

“Watch it, Crowley! Oh dear.”

“I’m nervous! Have you seen these two!”

Aziraphale was about to reply when he stopped. The sky here had an awfully familiar shade of blue in them. During the past 6000 years of civilisation, Aziraphale preferred to stay indoors rather than be out and about. There was a time when he had to stare at nothing but sand and sky while he stood upon a limestone wall. Then he cranked open the Bentley’s window and drew a deep breath in. Petrichor, mixed with the grass fields that covered the mountains, as well as something else, something that reminded him of the early days, before civilisation came to be. 

“Oh.” Eden was a vivid garden surrounded by a desert once. However, it wasn’t a stretch to assume that after Adam and Eve left, the walls had since fallen down, causing the vegetation to spread freely.

Adam looked at Aziraphale as he stroked Dog. “What is it? A demon or angel swarm?”

“No, nothing of the sort. We’re in Eden.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow at Aziraphale’s note. After slowing the Bentley, he cranked down his window and gave a sniff of the air. “It is!”

“Then they really are hammering in the fact that Heaven and Hell are uniting, aren’t they?” Adam grumbled.

Aziraphale sat, pensive at Adam’s point. He had always thought of Eden as a place intimate to him and Crowley. When a place became that intimate, even a famous one, it was difficult to think about how other people may use it for symbolic purposes.

Crowley cleared his throat, helping Aziraphale stop that train of thought. “So is this it?” He asked as he stopped the Bentley and peaked out of the window.

He was right. Not one sign of activity anywhere, not one soul across the grass fields and the groves of trees. Aziraphale stroked his chin.

“Oh dear. That can’t be right.”

Dog, however, yapped in one direction. They turn and see that it was Michael, crouched down upon the grass, hand moving as if she was etching something into the ground. She was wearing an edited version of Heaven’s uniform with a soot grey hue, too, as well as copper buttons.

Before anyone could ask what she was doing there, the Bentley turned dark as a burlap material went over it. They all screamed as the Bentley was tilted vertically, the boot facing the ground. When Aziraphale looked out of the windshield, they saw the circle of sky close as the top of the sack closed shut.

Yes, it appeared to be a trap indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the plot thickens!
> 
> As a former kiwi I find it obligatory to include at least 1 New Zealand reference in every one of my long fics.
> 
> There are lots of proposals as to where the garden of Eden is located. Botswana, Iran, Ethiopia, etc. I chose Iran because Mesopotamia is the birthplace of the Abrahamic religions, plus Arasbaran forests are known to have a lot of types of edible wild trees, which I figured Eden would have plenty of if it was intended to be a paradise for Adam and Eve.


	4. Sincere Apologies for the Bad Etiquette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam, Aziraphale, Crowley, and Dog are confronted by two angels who trapped them in the sack. However, it seems that Gabriel and Michael had different plans. Meanwhile, Adam sees Lucifer for who she really is.

Once again, they screamed as the sack tipped the Bentley out.

As the Bentley rocked from the inertia, Adam saw that they were in the centre a shadowy mauve tent illuminated by torches. There was grass under the Bentley, as if it was a tent set up over the fields of Arasbaran.

Dog growled as an angel paced beside the Bentley. The angel clicked his fingers, and the Bentley disappeared in a snap. Though Dog was smart enough to jump out of the windows, the rest of them fell onto the grass on their butts.

“OI!” Crowley hissed.

“At least give a warning!” Aziraphale added.

The angel looked at Aziraphale and rubbed his neck. “Oh. Sorry mate,” he said in a thick Australian accent. “But it was on the fineprint— no vehicles allowed.” They all blinked at the angel. “Right. You must’ve had items in your vehicle.” The Australian angel clicked, and the Bentley appeared, its doors popping open. “You can check the invitation if you like. I’m Muriel, by the way.”

Crowley lifted down his glasses and squinted at the angel. “Right...” He then crawled towards the Bentley.

Muriel stuck out a palm to urge Crowley to stop. “Not you, him,” he commanded as he pointed towards Aziraphale.

“Hey hey-!” Another angel stepped out of the shadows. Adam recognised that it was the angel he saw at the air base, Gabriel, though copper buttons glinted off of his grey overcoat. “It’s fine. I invited them myself.”

Aziraphale straightened his lapels. “I suppose I'll get them, then.” He climbed into the Bentley and picked up the gifts, now wrapped in brown butcher paper and twine, as well as their invitations. After Aziraphale climbed out, Muriel clicked, and the Bentley disappeared again. Crowley scowled.

Adam crawled forward towards his Godfathers-

“Halt, Antichrist!” Adam saw his reflection in the blade of a flaming halberd that chopped into the ground. As Dog dragged him away and growled, Adam raised his head up and saw the formidable glare of the halberd’s owner.

Lion-like was what came to his mind, with their mane of ruffled hair and their broad chin. Even the angel’s eyes were lined with gold eyeliner that gave them a slanted feline look.

After the lion angel finished glaring, they glanced towards Adam’s Godfathers. Adam’s Godfathers stood up, defensive as the angel held up their flaming halberd. However, Gabriel walked away towards another figure and stood beside them, causing the lion angel to redirect their gaze. The lion angel paced towards the figure, then kneeled.

As Adam’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he saw that it was another angel, the same one they saw writing in the grass. She stood with crossed arms, her eyes studying the lion angel. Adam could see that unlike the lion angel, she wore copper makeup-- copper lip gloss, eye shadow, and copperleaf on her freckles. It then came to him that he had never been around so many angels in his life. Uncle Aziraphale was kind, which was expected out of angels, but then again, Adam understood that the real Heaven did not care how kind their angels were. And he was only a normal person.

“St. Michael, there’s a trespasser in here,” the lion angel recounted.

That was Michael? Once Adam heard about Michael, he imagined her to be someone more like Xena or Wonder Woman, like an Amazonian warrior with armour and a sword and everything. In contrast, neat and prissy was how he’d describe her. Michael did wear a uniform fit for a military major, with the coloured bars and a kilt and all.

“Once again, those are guests _I_ invited, Ariel.” Gabriel gestured towards Adam’s Godfathers. “Oh, you meant he...” Gabriel pointed towards Adam, causing Dog to growl, “well uh, he’s another story. But that is not your department. Understand?”

The angel Ariel furrowed their eyebrows. “Then I apologise, St. Gabriel. In future, I’ll be accurate in choice. But undeniable it is, you see, that these two brought the _Antichrist_ in here. The Hellhound by his side, it proves that so. If I-”

Michael stuck out a palm to urge Ariel to stop.

“We know he is the Antichrist. Why did you pair up with another angel, Ariel, when I instructed everyone this morning to pair up with the opposite side?”

Muriel made an uncomfortable noise.

Ariel hung their head down. “But... I am still demonic, so to speak. Though Holy baptism has redeemed me, there is no undenying of my past-“

“You are an angel now, Ariel,” said Michael. “Follow the orders. Anyone on either side can form a mutiny. That is why we form duos with the other side so that the chances of one are minimised.”

“But, but, the gate guards. Demons, both of them!”

Muriel nodded. “Archangel Michael, I agree with Ariel. It’s dangerous. It’s a mess. You’ve got freshly fallen angels with angels, you’ve got former demons with demons. And Ariel’s basically a demon already. I can’t work with a real bloody demon and expect them to not murder me with Hellfire-“

Michael winced and inhaled a hiss as she rubbed her temple. “Lower your voices, would you? Stress is doing a number on my migraines. What you both said is true. One of the guards was a demon, but like Ariel, he is reborn and does not remember his past life. Ariel shouldn’t remember their past life, either. And demons who are freshly fallen still belong to the other side. There is nothing else more to that. Is that clear?”

Ariel furrowed their eyebrows, then they sighed. “I understand, oh Archangel Michael.”

“I-!”

“You two are dismissed. Go find a demon pair to swap with-- with one uneven pair, there is bound to be a full demon pair rampant throughout the site.”

Muriel scoffed and paced outside without another word. Ariel sulked, then left the tent.

Michael drew a deep breath in. “Sincere apologies for the bad etiquette, gentlemen,” she said to them in a cool tone. “The security measures for this event need to be tight. However, it seems that not everyone is able to act according to protocol.” Her eyes drifted towards Adam. “As for you, Adam Young… I do not recall Lucifer nor ever asking for you to come.” She turned her head around. “Was he a last-minute choice? You could’ve told me.”

The demon Lucifer glided out of the tent’s darkness. Adam was aware that Lucifer sometimes presented as female, but he never took it seriously, nor did he think of Lucifer as anyone else than the hulking red demon that erupted out of the airbase. Heck, this whole time Adam just imagined Lucifer as the demon, just in a comically small dress to make himself feel better. But because he wanted the demon at the airbase to stay that way, it didn’t come to him one bit just how ordinary yet striking _she_ was.

She had a strong, elegant jawline and skin pale like the marble of those Greek statues. Her hair reminded Adam of raw silk just before they’re woven into cloth, with their pale blonde sheen. Unlike the angels, Lucifer wore a silk, wine red dress shirt as well as black culottes. She was still clearly a demon, however. Two long, mahogany horns stuck out of her forehead that twisted inwards at their tips, like the horns of impalas. He saw silver talons as her hands and feet, like some bird of prey. As she made eye contact with Adam, he gulped. Her eyes were completely blue, apart from those reptilian diamond pupils.

Lucifer was frowning, her pale, feathery eyelashes half down. Then she turned to Michael. “No. I did not invite him,” she said. Her accent was something like a mix between a British accent and an American one, like how people spoke in olden American movies. Transatlantic, he remembered. “Someone else must’ve-- send him away.”

Adam wrinkled his nose. “So soon? But I just got here!”

Lucifer glared at him like he was a pest. Adam gulped, his heart hammering in its ribcage.

His Godfathers brought Adam closer to them as Michael put a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder.

“Lucifer,” Michael started, “would you mind explaining to them the rules of the wedding, seeing as they didn’t read the fineprint?”

Lucifer was busy glaring at Adam, a scowl on her face.

“No. I don’t think I will.”

Michael rubbed her temple. “Very well. I will do so. Aziraphale, Crowley, though you two have committed treason, you’ve demonstrated how our kinds can indeed be codependent, and so Lucifer and I have decided to pardon you two. Though, perhaps, as you two have crossed all odds, it is clear that She,” Michael glanced up at the sky, “wanted you both to live.”

Crowley was quiet, however, and studied Michael. Gabriel was huffing and refused to make eye contact.

“Adam, you were not originally invited by either of us, but as Lucifer said, it seems that a third party changed that. Since you’re the Antichrist, it’s clear to see why they did so. Therefore… perhaps it is best for you to not attend the wedding at all.” Lucifer nodded.

Crowley grovelled. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps you should give my car back first. What’s with the no vehicles rule, anyway?”

“Barriers,” Michael started. She frowned and rubbed her temple at that. “I’ve installed barriers around this site so that outside forces, as well as other humans, cannot disturb it. Your invitations should be encrypted in instructions as to how to properly enter _without_ having me rewrite the codes used to install it. However, they seemed to have been overlooked.”

Aziraphale coughed. “Yes. Well. I’ve been too invigorated by reading Hafez’s work on the trip to notice it, I’m afraid.” He gave out a nervous smile.

Michael directed her gaze towards Adam. “Go home, Adam Young. There is no need for you to be here. While you two, Aziraphale and Crowley, are welcome to stay and give a hand with the preparations. Seeing how you two have forgotten to follow the procedures, I have ordered an usher to come guide you.”

Crowley was skeptical. “Say, Mike, why is this wedding taking place? Funny world for angels to trust demons, innit?”

Gabriel coughed. “Well you see, _Crowley_ , this wedding is purely _political_. The Metatron has announced that Heaven and Hell needs to get along now. No more final war to work towards anymore.” Gabriel pulled up a forced smile. “And so Heaven and Hell needs to work hand in hand to serve humanity as She intended. Something to do with making harmony together.”

“I… see how that may be,” Aziraphale started, “but didn’t Michael and Lucifer fight during the War in Heaven-”

“Once again, it is symbolism for the union of our sides,” Michael cutted in. “That will be all the questions for now. You are all dismissed.”

“Very well. Come on, let’s go now,” Aziraphale cooed as he and Crowley lead Adam out of the tent. “We’ll be bringing him home in a jiffy,” he announced to Michael. However, a quick wink from him when he turned around proved otherwise.

Adam glanced back at the two Archangels and the demon. However, he couldn’t help but look at Lucifer. Even though Adam did not want anything to do with Heaven or Hell ever again, the situation was like the curiosity of peering down a steep ledge with no barriers. The common sense not to jump only fuelled the morbid fascination as to what would happen if someone jumped off after all.

Adam stopped and turned back around. “What about the air base?” Adam asked Lucifer. “Why did you look like… that, and why do you look like this now?”

Lucifer traipsed forward. “Oh. So you want to know?” She crouched down. “Let us begin. You caused Satan to erupt from the ground. However the name Satan is a pseudonym used by all of the Dark Council.”

Adam frowned. “So… why was it not just all of you?”

“It was. Your underdeveloped imagination combined all of us into your version of what you assume Satan is. A great, big brute. Typical human stereotype. You didn’t even bother to have any other expectations, so that is what happened. Control yourself. Understood?”

Lucifer’s words had quite the impact on Adam. The demon at the air base was his fault? Adam couldn’t imagine welding seven people into one monstrous abomination. So was the father he had thought of really just his expectation of what his real parent looked like? Adam understood why Lucifer was so angry with him now. “I… well, I don’t exactly know how my powers work.”

“That is not an excuse,” she spat. “Sense is nonsense to a fool. I should not have expected otherwise. Don’t assume you know everything. Don’t come back here.”

It was the way she said it that struck something in Adam. He knew he wasn’t just a child. But Adam did know that he was reckless once, and Lucifer hated him for it. Adam’s clenched hands shook as he tried to think of a reply. Lucifer only tilted her head, expecting a response from him. In the end, he couldn’t do it, and ran into his Godfathers’ embraces. Dog walked up to him, too, and licked at his ankle until Adam felt better. Then they led him out of the tent.

Michael was aware that helping organise the wedding had a toll on Lucifer. As the trio, as well as Adam Young’s Hellhound, left the tent, she looked at Lucifer. Lucifer’s gaze was focused on them. Perhaps the wedding’s toll was doing more on her than Michael had thought.

It then came to her that she didn’t see Lucifer smoke at all during the last couple of days. That could explain her attitudes today.

Michael turned around. “You’re dismissed now, Gabriel.”

“Really? Cause uh… it’s a big tent with no one else around.” Gabriel furiously gestured to Lucifer with a frown. Michael rolled her eyes.

“I will be able to handle it.”

Gabriel furrowed his eyebrows. “Well. I’ll be there if you need me, then.” A wave of his hand later, and he was gone.

Good. They were alone.

“Luci,” she called. “Oh, pardon me. Lucifer.” Michael miracled a cigarette packet and cracked it open for her. Lucifer eyed the cigarette packet, half-lidded, then pulled out one with a pair of her slender talons. Her gaze returned to their original direction as she put the cigarette into her mouth. Then she leaned towards Michael. Lucifer wanted Michael to light it.

Michael compiled and dug around a pocket for a lighter, then lit Lucifer’s cigarette. Lucifer leaned away.

It was the stress about the event’s dangers, Michael understood. Michael will simply have to do better next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michael’s really determined to crack down Ariel’s point of view and tell them the reality. Then again, it seems that Ariel is not interested in being a part of that world.
> 
> This update took longer than expected ^^U I was doing camp NaNo for another fic of mine, and I was also trying to more thoroughly plan what will happen in this one. Filling the sandbox with the sand, so to speak.


	5. Papers, Please

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As it turned out, there was a lot of bureaucracy involved with this wedding. Typical of Heaven and Hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: This chapter was edited by AO3 user IsleofSolitude! Thank you!! 💖

After leaving the tent, the trio stewed over what happened in the main tent. In particular, they did not like the condescending way Lucifer mocked Adam, but they could not do much about that yet. They were still an angel against a demon against their superiors. Their Hellfire and Holy water immunities were fabricated using illusions, while Lucifer and Michael truly did possess the powers of Hell's forces and Heaven's army within their grips. Two exceptional celestial and occult beings against two that were simply average. Not that it made them any less mad. 

“You seen that glare in Lucifer’s eye? She’s bloody…” Crowley cleared his throat, “pardon me, Adam, erhm, to put it frankly, never been that furious before. Did you look at her? She looked like she would bite Adam’s head off!” He growled. "Something's up. They're planning something."

"They’ve both got something to hide,” said Adam. “I think that we need to investigate what’s going on here.”

Aziraphale sighed, then he crouched down. "Adam, you _really_ need to go home. Someone from one of the sides brought you here for their own selfish purposes!"

Adam frowned a little. “Well the fact that I’m here means that I’m interrupting someone’s plans.”

"It's too dangerous," hissed Crowley.

An idea popped up in Adam's head. He tucked his hands behind his back. “Pretty please?” He asked, as innocently as possible.

And then the stress in his Godfathers dissipated like snow in a tropical climate.

"Well. I mean there is something fishy going on with this entire setup. We can't expect them to stab us behind the back without us knowing," said Crowley.

"Yes. And it's odd how Heaven and Hell wants to be so openly complacent with each other now. Surely they must be conniving against us," said Aziraphale.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” an angel in uniform suddenly said to the trio, causing them to jump out of their conversation. What was more bizarre was the fact that a demon with large pincers, a crab, stood by his side, albeit the crab demon simply wore formal clothing. Michael was speaking the truth— there were indeed demons assigned to every angel and vice versa. “Michael instructed us to transport you to the terminal tent.”

“Terminal tent?” Crowley asked. “Can’t we leave by walking out of the radius’ vicinity? That’s how we entered.”

The crab demon’s eye twitched. “Yes. She said that she doesn’t trust you all to go on your own, especially with the Antichrist with you. Especially since you don’t even know how to enter to begin with.”

“But there were no notes-“

Nevertheless, the angel and demon turned around, then walked away. “Follow us.”

With the site looking much like a maze the trio had no choice but to follow the angel and demon. And so the angel and a demon led the trio to the terminal without another word.

While they travelled, they saw how several tents were in the process of being put up as angels and demons alike paced around the area. It was easy to tell them apart. Most of the demons wore formal wear that had older styles that looked well worn, while the angels wore more contemporary fashion that looked newly bought. Furthermore, there were some angels who wore the modified uniform, who seemed to act in the role of supervision and extra muscle. Albeit they stood with a demon counterpart. 

Aziraphale looked at the back of the invitation, then thought about how Michael had said that the invitation should be encrypted with instructions. By now the compass had disappeared, leaving only a blank page. Aziraphale blinked at the blank page, then remembered that celestial notes were not confined to the laws of the physical realm. While ordinary books were opened in order to read them, for large celestial documents you had to _ask_ for a specific passage. Silly him. Why did he not think of that before?

“Show me Michael’s note,” Aziraphale requested. Small Enochian runes of light danced across the document, before shimmering into a note:

**_In any other circumstances your lack of compliance with set rules would have resulted in a penalty. However as you two have lived on Earth for so long, it would be understandable that you have simply forgotten how to read celestial notes, and did not consider whether any instructions would be encrypted upon your invitation. Therefore I shall explain the most vital detail again._ **

**_A spherical ward covers the reception area so that it could not be seen by or discovered outsiders. This ward also prevents unauthorised miracles from occurring within the circumference. The entry points consist of two poles that connect both Heaven and Hell to the centre of the area. All angels and demons that enter through this passageway are to be signed in inspected at the terminal. Further information can be found in the invitation._ **

**_The way you three entered was not a suitable entry method at all, but rather, a dummy entrance designed to deter humans away. This was why the ward’s codes had to be modified. Do note that this instance is an exception, not a standard, and do not expect the wards to be modified for you again. It is an incredibly complicated and time consuming process that undermines the security of the area._ **

**_\- Archangel Michael_ **

Aziraphale furrowed his eyebrows, confused as to how Michael focused on maximising the security of the location. 

“Angel?” Crowley tapped his shoulder, causing Aziraphale to yelp. He looked up, and saw a square tent where a pillar of light extended to the centre. That must be where the terminal was. 

They were led not through the main entrance but to a spot with no tent flaps. With their pincers, the crab demon cut into the tent’s material. Then, after they had entered, the angel brushed a glowing stylus down the seam. The fibres of the material glowed and then fused together. When the light dimmed, it looked as if there were nothing there at all. 

The inside was a lot bigger than it looked from the outside. To their right, a pillar of light shone from above, connecting to a pillar of shadow that came from a hole in the ground. They met at the centre so that they cancelled out each other and only blurred into an invisible spot of air. Crowley and Aziraphale could hear several angels and demons on the other end, all itching to come in. Angels and demons came out one by one and were processed by four incredibly exhausted border guards through fences of advanced-looking turnstiles that had many gadgets and gates. To the left was the entrance to the reception, while on the far end was a wall with closed tent flaps that had a bronze stand sticking out of the ground. 

The crab demon walked towards the pillar and apologised, saying that the flow had to be halted for two new arrivals to be signed in, to which angels and demons on the other side groaned. As Aziraphale and Crowley were shepherded to the front of the turnstiles, Adam was separated aside into a corner by the accompanying angel and was told to wait. After they got into position, the angel and demon promptly left. 

“Welcome to the wedding," a tired beaver demon recited to Aziraphale.

“Yes, welcome to the wedding,” an equally tired blue haired angel recited to Crowley.

They stuck out their hands. "Invitations, please.”

Aziraphale gave the angel the invitation, who placed them under a pair of binoculars perched on top of the turnstile, and then looked at Aziraphale through them, then looked at Crowley. Aziraphale realised that they must be confirming their identities using their old profile pictures. Then the angel stamped two stamps onto it.

They were then sorted into separate turnstiles, with the invitation slid down the turnstile separating them.The process turned out to be a dull process not unlike checking in at an airport. They were instructed to lift their arms up, turn around, and empty the contents of their pockets. It turned out not reading the rules of the wedding beforehand made the process very tedious. Each stage was completed with a stamp stamped onto their invitation. To their chagrin, their gifts were sent to the trash because there were traces of miracles performed on them. Crowley had to have his smart phone confiscated. Aziraphale suffered a lot more. He had to be stopped and searched frequently. The metal detectors of the turnstiles shrieked whenever they encountered a metal, to which Aziraphale would cower. At first he was only asked to remove his coat, which did not align with the dress code, but then they had to stop asking him to take off his clothes, otherwise he would only be left with a dress shirt and a pair of pants. 

In one memorable occasion, the blue-haired angel frowned at the silhouetted aura of Aziraphale as the turnstile scanned him. “That’s odd,” she said. “Your aura doesn't quite match up with your corporations.”

Aziraphale, remembering how their body swap from their failed execution would've misaligned their auras, blinked and grinned nervously. 

At last, they were done and met on the other side. Aziraphale looked at the invitation. The stamps were separated into two columns, one for Aziraphale and one for Crowley. Aziraphale frowned at the sight of two red stamps on his side, each attached with a ticket:

_Violation of the dress code_

_Possession of metals_

Aziraphale turned the invitation around. “What is the dress code for the wedding?” He inquired. 

**_At the wedding we aim to accommodate the fashion tastes of both angels and demons alike. Therefore while the general dress code is formal wear, the only items excluded from our dress code would be that of prohibited garments, which are excluded for the safety of the guests and hosts. These are:_ **

  * **_Draped cuts (knee-length coats, wide sleeves and pants)_**


  * **Loosely-hanging garments (neckties such as scarves, ties, cravats)**


  * **Hard pointed objects (high heels, hat/hair/lapel pins)**


  * **Metal accessories excluding buttons**



Unfortunately these criteria meant that Aziraphale violated most of them, with his Edwardian coat, his tartan neckcloth bow, his Cuban-heeled Oxfords, and, to top it all up, a gold lapel pin shaped like a pair of wings, the one accessory that Aziraphale chose to commemorate Heaven. 

Aziraphale peered at Crowley’s column, which did not have as many violations as he did. It was easy to see why— Crowley chose to simply wear a T shirt underneath his suit, so he did not have to worry about wearing neckties. Furthermore, his fashion aesthetic meant that his clothes stuck closely to his slim silhouette. He remembered how Crowley debated whether he should wear a pair of black Louboutin wedges, but opted to go for Louboutin opera pumps instead. Out of luck, too. Aziraphale was sure that the wedges would be confiscated out of fear that it would be used as a blunt force trauma weapon. "You're not wearing any metals on you?"

Crowley shook his head. "No." 

Aziraphale looked at Crowley’s round buckle. He had chosen one with a silver ouroboros for this occasion. “Not even your belt?”

He shrugged. “Fibreglass… hey, what’s this?” Crowley picked at the ink stamp over the invitation, only for a paper stamp to peel off. “A ticket?” Crowley squinted. "Admission to the dress code department? Is this in case someone did enter without the correct dress code? Blimey, they really have thought this wedding through."

Aziraphale took off his coat. "Yes. Never mind the fact I wore haute couture to this. I do get the accessories but ah... Crowley, do you think I need to take my heels off? And walk to the department without shoes?”

The two noticed a brunet angel guard with a braid glaring at them, as if they had lost their minds. 

“I… take that as a yes. Okay, take off your banned garments, angel. These shall return to our house. May I?" Crowley asked, raising his hand. 

Aziraphale nodded and took off all of his banned items before presenting them to Crowley in a bundle. Crowley clicked once, then frowned. He clicked again.

"Stop!" The brunet angel ran to Crowley’s side, his palm outstretched, a panicked expression plastered across his face. "Unauthorised miracles are a violation of the rules, and are disabled here! You two should both know that!"

Crowley frowned. The angel sighed and snatched the invitation from Aziraphale’s hands. Then with a stamp he stamped a large bronze X onto Crowley’s column. “As you two have not bothered to read the rules on your invitation at all, I presume that you don’t know about the strikes, either?” Crowley and Aziraphale grimaced and shook their heads. 

The angel scowled and held up the invitation, tapping a manicured nail underneath the large X. “Two more of these? You two are getting evicted.”

Adam was sitting on the chair, watching the new arrivals come as he petted a sleeping Dog on his lap, bored out of his mind. 

He idly looked over the scene, watching as angels and demons of all shapes and sizes signed in and moved down the lanes. Suddenly, Dog perked up and looked around, a quiet growl rumbling in his throat. 

“What is it, boy?”

His snout was pointed towards a newcomer in particular. A man with a maroon coat and a newsies cap was having his profile analysed. He had sun-kissed skin and a sharp face that looked like a carved Greek statue. Judging from the dark colour of his coat, Adam guessed that he was a demon. However Adam could see that his brows were furrowed, as if he was in deep thought. The blue haired angel at his lane frowned as he looked through the glass lens. 

"Pardon me, sir," she apologised. "These seem to be malfunctioning."

The demon eyed the distracted angel, whose attention was focused on her malfunctioning lens. However his gaze was not worried or exasperated but rather… calculating. Then, he reached a hand into his suit pocket and carefully extracted a single, blue-headed match, then pushed it between the panels of the nearby booth, which was operated by a beaver demon. 

A quiet sizzling sound commenced and Dog made a quiet noise, burying his snout under his paw. The smell of burnt ozone and sour sulphur filled the air, scratching the insides of Adam’s nostrils and making his eyes water. Then there was a loud crackle and the booth set on fire. The beaver demon looked down at his booth and frowned.

"Shit. What now?" The beaver demon slapped the turnstile in the manner of how one would slap a malfunctioning television. 

“Hey-!” The blue haired angel called out. “Don’t do that, we don’t slap our machines-“

The demon took this opportunity and stuck a match into the turnstile the angel left, ruining that one as well and slinking down the lane while the guards were distracted. His face was stoic and blank as he marched forward, as if he was already allowed entry. 

"Hey!" Adam called out. The demon glared at Adam with sharp, cold fire in his eyes. Adam was taken aback by his paper blank eyes, as if colour was sucked out of the irises, leaving only the blank whites and strings of membrane. There was a horizontal slit in the middle of his eye, reminding Adam of the eyes of rams and octopi.

"YOU! STOP RIGHT THERE!" The demon whipped his head towards the brunet angel, who pointed at him, alerting everyone inside the tent. He swore under his breath and then dashed towards the exit. 

“Backup. We need backup!” The blue haired angel called out into her walkie talkie. Just before the demon left the tent the brunet angel and a tiger demon grabbed him by the wrists, who dragged him back into the tent. The demon struggled and growled as he struggled to get out of their grips.

Aziraphale and Crowley gawked at the scuffle, but noticed that the rogue demon meant that all of the guards were busy chasing after him. With all of the new arrivals having already left, Adam’s corner was unsupervised.

“Pssst-! Adam!” Crowley and Aziraphale gestured for Adam to come over during this commotion. “Quick!”

Adam picked Dog up and slipped through the broken turnstile, covering his nose with his sleeve as he rushed to his Godfathers’ sides. 

By now the demon was dragged back into the tent by all of the guards. As the demon fought, his cap fell off and a mop of glossy chestnut curls tumbled out. Two ebony ram horns gleamed. 

Crowley gawked at the sight. “Asmodeus!”

The demon made eye contact with the trio, a manic glint in his hauntingly white eyes. Sensing an opportunity, Asmodeus then bit the arm wrapped in front of his neck, causing the owner to howl and let go. Asmodeus fought off the other angels and demons with newfound strength before racing in front of Adam, then began to speak.

“THERE IS AN IMPOSTER AMONG US-” Before he could finish, Asmodeus was promptly gagged with a cloth by a demon. Adam blinked. Imposter? Did he mean that someone here was in disguise?

The tiger demon grabbing him peered at Adam with large, amber eyes. “Hey, you, what are you doing outside here-“

_Click!_

And then everyone in the tent went silent. Adam saw that Asmodeus’ hand was raised, having performed a miracle. With his other hand, Asmodeus lifted a single finger against his lips, a warning to stay quiet. 

The angel and demon guards blinked, as if they had forgotten why they were looking at Adam. The tiger demon shook his head. Then he glared at Asmodeus’ raised hand. “About to do a miracle, you bastard? Huh?” The demon punched Asmodeus and he fell onto the ground like a limp rag doll. Asmodeus was promptly cuffed, hands behind his back, inhaling a hiss as the sterling metal clicked across his wrists. However Asmodeus did not seem to struggle much anymore. He stayed limp within the guards' grasps, his mop of chestnut hair covering his face as he was dragged out of the tent, presumably to a makeshift jail tent. 

Right on time, new replacements came just as the border patrol guards left the tent.

“Phew. Thank you for your patience,” a new guard, a rather chipper bat demon, said with a smile. "Hopefully that won't happen again. Good on your usher for pointing that out!"

Crowley blinked. "Usher?"

"This little putto right here. Good on you!" She gave a thumbs up to Adam. Adam looked at her, confused.

"Indeed. Our usher!" Aziraphale interjected. 

"We were hesitant towards Michael’s order because she already assigned us a putto,” Crowley said, then he stretched out a wide, dry grin. “But we came around the idea. Good on Michael for ordering a second one just in case, yeah?"

"D'aww.” She smiled condescendingly at Adam, two prominent fangs gleaming. “I love his little Earth outfit! Aren't _you_ gonna look so handsome in your new uniform!" Without warning, the demon pinched Adam's cheeks. The three then proceeded to look at her quizzingly. The bat demon stood back and chirped a nervous chuckle. "Ah… forgive me for my excitement. Hah. I've missed seeing putto ever since I fell a few years back. All we have downstairs are imps. _Very_ unhelpful and annoying. All they want to do is play.

Adam wondered what imps were, but Crowley managed to prevent Adam from answering by saying: “oh yes. Very hard to believe that imps start out as putto. Not as cute.”

"Heh. But enough smalltalk. I am Lenora, and I will be showing you two how to get to your personal waiting rooms." 

"Personal?" Crowley quizzed. 

"They're so that not much conniving happens between multiple groups." From a ticket holder in her hand, she pulled out a ticket. "Okay. It seems that you three are in room A113." She pressed the ticket into a bronze stand and opened the tent flaps. "Here you go." She passed the ticket into Adam's hand. 

The trio cautiously stepped into the waiting room and looked around. It looked like the generic insides of a motel lobby, with flawless, pale slate walls, a marbled bronze and white carpet, and a Chesterfield in the centre. Over the flaps a monitor was plugged in, showing crystal clear security footage of the terminal. 

"You three are waiting for Kelila. She's a putto who has shoulder-length black hair and a silver beret. Need me to write her name down?" 

Crowley waved his hand in dismissal. "No thank you, we'll remember it."

"Splendid!" The bat demon grinned. "Have a great visit!" and then the tent flaps closed with a magnetic click. 

"So," Crowley started, looking at the monitor. "Two of the turnstiles are broken. How long do you reckon the new usher's gonna arrive?"

Aziraphale hummed as he looked at the screen. Only two border guards were able to process incoming angels and demons. Meanwhile an angel requested for backup from technicians. "With a bottleneck like that? Indefinitely."

The trio entered their waiting room. Then they sat and waited as the new angels and demons were processed at a snail's pace. 

* * *

Michael had left explicit instructions not to bother the trio and let them follow the dirt path. However Raziel knew that the presence of the Antichrist was suspicious and concerning at best. The demon assigned next to him, Scyllarus, simply looked at the giant burlap sack with a shrug. “I’ve got my own problems to deal with,” he had muttered. Luckily, Scyllarus’ own problems included checking his pet rock catalogue for the remainder of his shift, so Raziel was left to bring matters into his own hand. It was lucky that Scyllarus’ eyepatch faced Raziel’s booth. 

Meanwhile, an angel eavesdropped upon the unsuspecting group from outside, wedged between the valleys of the tent. He frowned at the sound of a miracle being performed. The demon— Lord Asmodeus, he believed— should have found himself unable to perform any. What more, it appeared that he used it to allow Adam to remain here, at the wedding. 

There was a possibility that Asmodeus had summoned Adam here to ruin the wedding. However Asmodeus had also claimed that one of the members in the wedding’s vicinity was a fraud and needed to be exposed. Only, if that was the case, wouldn’t the scanners have noted when an angel or demon’s auras misaligned from their corporations?

Raziel’s eyes widened. Unless one of the administrators of the wedding was an imposter. And no one would know. After all, more resources were put into identifying the guests and guards. They were treated as the threat, after all. Could it be that a Second or First Sphere angel, or a demon Lord, was an imposter, but no one knew? Could it be that Asmodeus wanted this wedding to succeed, which was why he summoned Adam here?

Raziel had a plan. He knew of a particularly bad-tempered demon Duke who seemed to enjoy terrorising angels rather than work with them. Pasty-skinned with straw like hair and warts on his skin. He was a demon who enjoyed breaking protocol and who was hot-tempered enough to create chaos wherever he went. Nevertheless, in terms of working on the wedding he seemed to be surprisingly supportive. While persuading Duke Hastur to work with an angel would be difficult, he was the strongest contender out of his options. 

There were a few other demons Raziel could seek out, too. But, speak of the devil, the first demon of his choice walked by. He watched from within the gaps of the tent as the demon, in his filthy glory, walked while a female angel with a ponytail followed him. Raziel could not help but furrow his eyebrows. The Duke could be someone else impersonating him. He would have been assigned a task and a group of angels and demons to complete it, after all. 

“Well,” the angel stammered. “Mr-”

“Duke.”

“Duke Hastur. There really was no need for that.”

“The what?” He barked. “You got something to say? Say it to my face.” All tension in Raziel’s shoulders relaxed. That’s got to be Duke Hastur.

“It’s… it’s er, there wasn’t much need to scold that little rat usher.”

“There was. He was being a right little bugger.”

The angel gulped. “Well. He was a helpful member of our team. That’s not very-”

The demon’s mouth stretched open and flashed Hellfire, causing the angel to yelp.

“Oh, that’s it.” She rubbed her temple as the Lord cackled. “I’m resigning.” And so she marched away into the direction of the resignation tent.

The invitation hanging out of Duke Hastur’s pocket was snatched by a patrolling bee demon, who promptly opened it and stamped a bronze X onto the paper. Hastur made a tsk and rolled his eyes as the demon lectured him on the effects of his bad influence, especially as a high-ranking Duke. As the bee demon’s angel counterpart looked around the area, Raziel slipped further back into the gap between the tents.

This conveniently left the Duke alone. However Raziel knew that sooner or later someone was bound to ask what he was doing without an angel by his side. Raziel lurked out of the alley and tapped the Duke in the shoulder. The Duke snarled. “Ahem. We’re not allowed to flare our Hellfire here.” 

“Bah. ‘s just a wee little scare…” The demon looked in Raziel's direction.

The Duke’s obsidian eyes turned round. He blinked. A sense of self consciousness began to flood Raziel, and he couldn’t help but recoil. Angels who were once demons were treated to be more tainted than other angels, and Raziel despised having to be seen lesser just because of a past he did not remember. And here, it seemed that in Hell he was infamous enough to have known a Duke. 

“Pardon me, we must’ve known each other,” said Raziel. “From before.”

The demon laughed a shrill laugh. “Yeah. Yeah yeah yeah yeah. Before!”

Raziel frowned at the Duke’s eager nature and he sighed. “We should introduce ourselves.” Raziel pointed his palm over his own chest and did a small bow. “Principality Raziel.”

Hastur blinked and his grin slowly disappeared. “Duke Hastur,” he replied with a bite in his words. He looked away with a sour expression and waved his hand. “Bah. Let’s just get it over with. What do you want?”

Raziel idly glanced over towards the new arrivals tent. ”I’ve heard about you upstairs.”

“Yeah?”

“You were at the botched trial of the demon Crawley, who is, along with his angel partner, are important guests at the wedding.”

Hastur perked up and looked at Raziel. “What about them?”

Raziel tilted his head in the direction of the terminal tent. “Right now, they, along with the Antichrist, are inside of that tent.”

After he looked into the direction of Raziel, Hastur gasped. He then proceeded spewing various profanities that even for a demon would be excessive.

The excessive nature then caused a passing putto to turn around and look at the duo. The putto had the appearance of an innocent child, golden wheat hair and freckles that looked like a starry galaxy. Raziel knew, however, that it was this innocence that was weaponised. Despite his innocent childish demeanour, a putto would rat an angel out without a second thought, especially one who seemed to be conniving against protocol. 

Panicked, Raziel said to Hastur: “ahem. You’re right. I should have consequences for my actions. My apologies for making you swear.” 

Hastur looked at Raziel, confused. The putto smiled and turned away, trailing his assigned angel-demon pairing. 

After making sure that no one was looking at them, Raziel gripped Hastur by the wrist and pulled him into the alleys between the tents. Isolated from the main paths where many angels and demons crossed, there was very little sound within the alleys. All the more daunting was it to tell the frowning Duke what he wanted. Raziel drew a deep breath in. 

"I've also been asking around, and rumour has it that you support this wedding," he started. "Is that true?"

Surprisingly, Hastur did not deny it. He shifted in his spot, furrowing his brows in annoyance. "In a way."

"Good. I do not want this wedding to fail, either. And because of that we need to help those three inside the tent."

"What?!"

"Someone within these wards wants to sabotage the wedding, and they are likely a highly-ranked figure doing so in disguise. The Antichrist seemed to be summoned here by an anonymous figure to stop that from happening." Raziel furrowed his brows as he recollected how the Antichrist mentally persuaded the angel and demon using a type of glamour. "In fact... it seems that his Antichrist powers seem to be _unaffected_ by the wards. Do you have any input?"

Hastur shrugged. "The Antichrist is not a demon or angel, but human, only that he possesses all the powers of the occult. I don't reckon the wards were written to suppress that."

Raziel perused. "Yes, there seemed to be particular methods that the wards so not disable. He is also human, so his powers would not be connected to either Heaven or Hell. It doesn't help that he is an unexpected guest, either."

Hastur nodded. "A'ight. So we'll leave them alone-"

"Hang on," Raziel said. "Those three can't make it that far by themselves." He rubbed his temple. "They've only just arrived but have already gotten one strike already. Can you guess what it is?"

They heard noises of a dog coming from the tent. "Bringing a Hellhound?"

"No. _Performing a miracle because they have not read the rules._ "

Hastur barked out a laugh. "That is so stupid. Right. We're helping those nincompoops so they don't get shooed away out of stupidity.” 

While loyalty to Heaven was Raziel’s main reason for supporting this wedding, like other newly Risen angels, his underlying motive was the gamble that the wedding would calm relations between Heaven and Hell. That way he did not have to deal with more prejudice against a past he did not remember. The Duke, he supposed, had his own reasons, whatever they may be. And? He seemed to pledge to play along obediently and truthfully. And the fact that they had apparently known each other before Raziel had risen also cemented the Duke’s credibility. Raziel drew in a deep breath and exhaled. Then he stuck out his hand. 

“Do we have a deal?”

Hastur stared at the hand. He studied him, his brows tense. Then a dry grin stretched, thin as a knife slit. “To what extent exactly? What, you’re willing to commit and parade forgeries of documents signed by an administrator? Get whatever you want just by parading fake notices?”

No, Raziel did not find the idea of committing fraudulence with a demon enticing. If anyone found out, not only would both he and Hastur be banned, but his reputation would be tarnished indefinitely. But on the other hand, Raziel considered this to be a necessary evil. “If I must? Certainly.”

The Duke’s features relaxed and he blinked. Just before sticking his hand out too, Hastur spat onto his own palm. Raziel’s stomach lurched as saliva dripped onto the grass in fat, misty droplets. 

Nevertheless, Raziel mustered up his courage and spat on his palm as well, though only slightly. 

As soon as they shook hands, the two of them seemed to momentarily phase into a realm not his own. A ribbon of red and white light emerged out of the space between their palms, twirling around their wrists like a snake. The ribbon sank beneath their sleeves and flesh, and then snuffed out as they returned to reality. They had made a deal. Moreso, Raziel had made a deal with a demon. One that was mutual which they would both comply with. 

As soon as they let go, Hastur grasped his other hand in a handshake arm wrestle. Raziel blinked at the sudden gesture. However after Hastur put his hand down, Raziel realised that Hastur had passed a paper slip into his hand. Slowly, he turned his wrist around. What was on the slip made Raziel’s eyes widen and his palm to shake like he was about to open Pandora’s box. 

The paper slip had Michael’s signature on it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been so LONG since I have updated this fic! Thank you to readers who stuck around for so long, and hello to any new readers who have come across this fic! I’m going to keep up an update of one chapter every Tuesday from now on


	6. Double Trouble

Asmodeus was known in Hell for the cult he ran, which tempted demons to change their allegiance so that they had no higher God than he. He brainwashed them into lusting over him, in exchange for an alluring selection of indulgences. Slipping his tendrils into the deepest crevices of the mind until there was nothing left. It was no freedom. It was tyranny. 

Because of his immense power, Lucifer unfortunately must be diplomatic with Asmodeus, offering him a seat in the Dark Council in exchange for heavy surveillance of his realm. So far this system had worked, as supposedly no one had been indoctrinated by Asmodeus for 200 years. Amii had never met Asmodeus before. But he already had good reasons to hate him. 

The demon Asmodeus was tied in the centre of a chair inside a tent, the light from the sky illuminating him. Several angels and demons surrounded the captive.

Amii tore off the bag over his head. “Why are you here? What is the nature of the sabotage?”

Asmodeus lifted a thick eyebrow. “Baron Amii. Great. Now, listen to-“

Amii punched the demon in the nose, and Asmodeus looked back at him with wide eyes. “Yikes. You’re full of adrenaline, sweetheart, you won’t listen. How about y’all calm down and-”

He punched the demon again, and this time a trickle of blood dripped down his nose. Asmodeus frowned as he winced. “Who approved this interrogation method-”

Amii tossed the chair to a Power who punched Asmodeus in the throat. Asmodeus’ eyes bulged and he hacked, rendering him speechless. 

“Don’t punch him there!” A Virtue called. “He said something about there being an imposter on the site!”

“He’s playing mind games on us! We cannot stay offguard!” Amii roared. 

“What he’s got could be important!”

“Whatever he says could just as well be a red herring!”

The angels and demons inside of the tent delved into a fierce quarrel while Asmodeus hacked, distracted by nothing, not even when the tent’s entrance opened and light shone in. 

That was, until they saw who entered the tent. 

The quarrel in the tent faded as angels and demons alike turned their heads towards the newcomer, one by one. Then they let go of the chair and straightened themselves up. 

Lucifer peered, left and right, her head held up in poise. Amii especially was diligent in presenting himself. He owed Lucifer two for saving his life big time, and whenever Lucifer entered he felt humbled by her presence. 

Asmodeus, however, was seething. “ _You_ ,” he growled. “If you lay a finger on Michael, once I escape, _I will rip you apart until not a sliver of flesh is on your bones_.”

Lucifer’s diamond pupils drifted onto Amii. “You there. Tell me how he came here.”

Amii bowed. “My Lord. Asmodeus destroyed two turnabouts in order to infiltrate the wedding, and claims that there is an imposter within this site. Not only that, but he seemed to have granted miracles even with the wards’ restrictions in place.”

Lucifer studied the infiltrator and crossed her talons. “Lift up the chair.”

An angel and a demon lifted the chair up, so that Asmodeus and Lucifer looked at each other, eye to eye. Asmodeus glared at Lucifer in bitter disgust while Lucifer gazed at him, as if he was a scrap of mud under her foot. 

She braced her talons on either side of the chair. “You. Were. So. _Close_ . You definitely weren’t planning to arrive as an invited guest, were you? Why didn’t you use the _invitation I sent you_? The one I sent out of generosity?”

Asmodeus coughed, then had the audacity to not answer her question, but instead glare. 

“Speak.”

“You’re speaking to me? In a Mid-Atlantic accent?”

Lucifer blinked. Amii had no idea what Asmodeus was talking about. All he knew was that Lucifer was well-known for talking in an American dialect, though Amii could not tell them apart. 

“Why are you quiet now, _Lucifer_? Why don’t you go drag a deck of Luckies. No? Ain’t that a swell idea-“

He let out a cry of pain when Amii stamped onto his foot.

“You didn’t answer her question.”

Asmodeus glared at Amii, a hard glint in his eyes. “Listen to me closely. You don’t recognise me?”

“Oh, I recognise you alright, _pal_. Asmodeus. Demon of lust. Has a cult.” Amii grinded his heel into Asmodeus’ bare foot, causing him to writhe in agony. “I had a sister that was in that cult of yours! You want mercy? Then give her back!”

Asmodeus glared at Lucifer, wrinkling his nose in a snarl. 

Lucifer simply gazed at him apathetically. “Don’t look at me like that. A cult is different from a nation.”

Asmodeus growled as he looked around. “You really haven’t noticed all of the off things she did, anyone? Why is it that Michael is writing the scripture more than she is? Why is it that Lucifer barely made any grand announcements regarding this wedding? Even though it is supposed to be both Heaven and Hell who would have equal contributions? Etcetera?”

At Asmodeus’ accusations, Amii growled. He was accusing Lucifer of being a sycophant to Heaven. That was a popular conspiracy theory among the other demons of Hell, the ones that were not invited. The wedding was an exclusive event, where only the top Lords and the most trusted lesser demons could attend. Solely to avoid sabotage by demons who did not support Lucifer’s decision. 

Asmodeus wrinkled his nose again as he glared at Lucifer. “People are going to notice the flaws in your plans sooner or later!”

Lucifer raised a quizzing brow. “Are you assuming that Michael’s incompetent? Because I assure you, she’s doing marvellously in her Enochian lessons.”

Asmodeus scoffed. “Enochian lessons? By _you_?”

Slowly, Lucifer’s eyes turned round, though she shot a venomous glare at him. “Why are you so interested in what she’s doing? Do you want her as a _trophy_ ?” The malicious nature chilled the angels and demons in the tent to their cores. “How _dare_ you. I know what you and your cult would do to her!” Asmodeus frowned, but remained stubbornly quiet. 

“Say, what _do_ you plan to do? Corrupt her into your personal slave? Use her as a puppet, even, so that you have _Heaven_ under your feet, too?” The angels were visibly wincing at such a description. Even as a demon, Amii thought it was disgusting how Asmodeus would dare to do that. Asmodeus’ eyes widened, though still he remained quiet. 

“Or are you going to torture her to quench your lust? Then, once you are bored, chop off her head, slice it right from her body, to hang it over your throne?” A chill went up Amii’s spine at such a grotesque description. Asmodeus refused to speak, but by now he was shaking his head, his eyes round. And Amii gagged, knowing that was what Asmodeus would willingly do. 

“And then are you going to _fu_ -“

“NO-!”

Lucifer frowned at Asmodeus. “No? No to all of that, I presume?” She looked away, then put a talon on her chest and exhaled. “Excuse me for such drastic assumptions,” she declared to everyone in the tent. “I am simply so exhausted. And now I must be respectful to everyone. Only, some are insisting that I want to be a _sycophant_ of Heaven, while I must set a good example for Michael and I.”

A poignant silence ensued in the tent. Lucifer rarely showed such a vulnerable side, but she was showing it because she trusted them. Amii was sure that must be the case.

“Well,” a Virtue started. “We could banish anyone who is disobeying the rules. We could remove-”

“No, no need, no need.” Lucifer twirled her wrist in dismissal. The two demon Princes glared at each other, sulphur blue eyes into white cephalodia eyes. “I’m the one with the proper administrations, so I shall deal with this idiot myself. You all must go to your next posts, too. Fill papers. A whole lot of bureaucracy. A little privacy, everyone?”

The angels and demons filed and left the tent, one by one. Until at last, only Amii remained. 

Lucifer glanced at him over her shoulder, waiting for him to speak. Amii cleared his throat. 

“I… owe you a lot, Lucifer. I technically owe you twice ever since 1601. Even though you may not remember me, because of all the demons you keep track of. All I want to say is... thank you. And don’t listen to anyone who’s trying to stop you. You’re doing a great job, and I will support your decisions, all of your decisions, even as Hell goes into this new age. Because… I know that you want what is best for us.”

Lucifer only glanced at Amii with a blank expression, but nodded and looked towards Asmodeus. “You’re welcome.” Of course. A simple, ordinary demon would slip from her mind’s notice. Furthermore, she had more serious matters to address. 

As Amii left the tent, The last thing they heard was Asmodeus screaming for Lucifer to stop before a flash of silver light flashed inside of the tent. 

* * *

Aziraphale drummed his fingers as he studied the monitor, where many new arrivals seemed to be waiting outside. 

Though by now the terminal’s machines had been fixed, there were still no apparent signs of the putto Kelila. Dog stayed alert to guard Adam, who was restlessly bouncing his leg up and down. Though it was hard to tell with his glasses on, it had seemed that Crowley had dozed asleep from the lack of activity. His limbs splayed across the chair, looking an awful lot like a bundle of liquorice melted by a hot summer day.

There was a troubling thought that was stewing inside Aziraphale’s mind. He considered what they had observed today and then drew in a deep breath, disbelieving what he was thinking. Aziraphale was frightened that what he was considering was simply what Heaven and Hell wanted him to think, so that their guards may be lowered and Heaven and Hell would attack. 

But he also knew that staying silent about it wasn’t going to make the elephant in the room go away. Aziraphale inquired the invitation questions regarding the wedding, to which it all answered appropriately, as well as rules imposed. Then he came across the final conclusion. 

Aziraphale drew a deep breath in. He could do this. As he turned towards Adam and Crowley, he coughed into his hand. “Ahem. What if the wedding is real? What if Heaven and Hell truly intends to unite?”

If Crowley wasn’t awake, he definitely was now. Crowley snorted awake as he and Adam perked up at Aziraphale’s theory. Crowley scrunched up his face.

“What makes you say that?”

“Well,” he started. “There are a lot of procedures they intend to implement, and they are all designed so that the _wedding_ can not be sabotaged. Really now, Heaven and Hell are making it so that they are the victims. If this is a trap, it is a superfluously imaginative and needlessly complicated one. You remember how you used Enochian scripture to make the stars, Crowley?”

Adam raised his eyebrows, interested. "Enochian scripture to make stars?"

"'S like coding for you humans. Scripture's our language, but it's also used by any angel who created and modified matter and also used wrote the laws of the universe. But uh, yeah, angel?” 

“If the wards are indeed set up by Michael…. why. As the leader of Heaven’s army, there’s no need for her to know how to use Enochian scripture in that way at all.”

Crowley frowned and curled his lip. “ _Lucifer_ could. And she was the director of how things were made on Earth, so she’s definitely an expert. If Michael can… _charm_ Lucifer into marriage, any trap they want to make is possible. Shows they want to work together, and Hell and Heaven had never mind not conniving together in the past for shady business.”

Aziraphale thought back to his failed execution. “No. I suppose not.” He exhaled. Crowley accepted that his kind was rotten to the core, that they wouldn’t mind stabbing someone for looking at them funny. Using Machiavellian machinations and brutal violence to get what they want. But for Aziraphale, it was different. Aziraphale had trusted the Archangels as being amongst the best of the hosts of Heaven. Shining beacons of examples the rest of them had to follow. But to know that they would not mind executing their own kind for following their duties, as well as performing shady deals with the very side they forbid Aziraphale to fraternise with? Why. Bit hard to not lose credibility with that.

But again, it was careful work, to create those barriers herself rather than to seek help. Aziraphale guessed that Michael learnt those codes herself, despite her occupation, so that no miracle could override the security of the wedding site. 

Crowley tucked his hands into his jeans and grovelled, then tilted his head. “Then again, lots of angels and demons are looking downright miserable with working together, innit.”

“And a lot of angels and demons who want this wedding to work because they have something to gain.”

Yes, the trio were still suspicious of the motives behind the wedding. But based on the evidence they know… they must begrudgingly come to the conclusion that there was a large chance the wedding was truly occurring, not simply just as a trap.

However a thought was troubling Adam. “Asmodeus… he said that there could be an imposter.”

“An imposter?” Aziraphale and Crowley looked at each other. 

“Imposter in what way?” Aziraphale mused. “Imposter in that… someone is only pretending to support the wedding, but is otherwise intending to sabotage it? Or in that someone from Hell is going to betray their own side?”

“Could mean anything.”

“Well,” Adam started. “Why would Asmodeus want to make the wedding succeed?” 

Crowley shrugged. “Beats me. I don’t frequent Hell often. Never met the guy.”

“What if…” Aziraphale started. “He is _lying_ to divide the two sides? Make each side suspicious of the other. Cause a fullout fight.”

“Oh yeah, that could be the case, too.” Crowley scrunched his nose. “From what I gathered… Asmodeus isn’t that popular in Hell for a reason, and that reason being that he’s a slimy bastard.”

Adam furrowed his brows, sensing a problem. “We’re talking like we want to _support_ the wedding.”

The husbands looked at him. And then they looked at each other.

“Do we want this wedding to happen? Truly?” Aziraphale inquired.

“Could put Heaven and Hell off our backs, once and for all. Forever. No need to object to an angel-demon couple if the heads of Heaven and Hell were married.”

“And if it is a trap…?”

“Nothing I can’t do,” Adam assured with a brave smile. “Something rotten’s going on here, and I want us to find out what it is. We’ve already made it this far, after all.” 

“Yes, we can make some precautions later.”

“Too bad we still have to deal with that usher.”

“Hey Crowley!” Someone barked. 

Crowley jolted.

It was Hastur who slipped through the tent flaps, dressed to the nines. Hastur flashed Crowley a middle finger, causing Aziraphale and Crowley to cover Adam’s eyes, and then turned around to do whatever he was doing. The angel beside him looked at him funny.

“‘S that your revenge plan, Hastur? Very creative.”

Hastur laughed. “Living with an angel has made you an idiot!” His laughter masked the fact that the trio stayed quiet. Hastur’s grin flattened into a knife slit. “Aight. Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Hastur tucked a hand into his pocket and pulled out a clipboard. “General Wank Wings said that the putto can’t come anymore. Living quarters got wrecked. Michael’s sending a new one soon. You can even see the signature here.”

Aziraphale and Crowley peered at the document on Hastur’s clipboard, where Michael’s handwriting looped in an intricately-looped cursive. Crowley frowned, knowing that Hastur would hate working with angels. “Why not Lucifer’s signature?”

“She’s unavailable. Busy inspecting the preparations, in case any tomfoolery happens.”

"About the new putto. When would that be?"

"Indefinitely. She'll send another angel to tell you. And it will take a long time. Because so many of the little buggers are supposed to be here at this wedding already.”

The two could not help but look nervously at Adam, then at Hastur again. Hastur was currently too busy flicking through the many pages on his clipboard. Right now Hastur did not even treat Adam as anything out of the ordinary. In their head, the husbands were both thinking the same thing. Hastur has never seen Adam before. He supposedly had only ever seen Warlock, after all. So if the demon Lenora thought Adam was a putto, would Hastur think of the same thing?

* * *

To avoid the trio from seeing him, Raziel had travelled up to Heaven’s entry to the wedding upstairs. It was a very long queue full of impatient angels, barred into a tight squeeze by velvet rope barriers, who were bottlenecked from a crowd of angels that waited at the terminal. 

Meanwhile, Raziel was waiting in the middle of Heaven’s terminal, holding a sign with the name: Kelila.

Soon, there was a polite little ‘ahem’ and a tug at Raziel’s shirt. Raziel looked at his feet to see a girl with the largest brown eyes.

The little putto wore a metallic silver beret that shimmered, and her dark hair was a curtain of lustrous black silk. She had a sweet smile and eyes that shimmered like stars. Like other putti, Kelila wore their uniform that was reminiscent of human child scouts, only that the colours were modified to be shades of grey, completed with copper buttons. 

“Hello!” She greeted, with a sweet voice melodious like a lark’s. “Are you the mister who will take me to the Principality Aziraphale and the Serpent of Eden Crowley?”

Raziel crouched down onto his knees and smiled. “Change of plans, poppet. Michael came around and tasked me to have you dismissed. You can see the signature here.”

Kelila stood on the tip of her toes as she peered at the clipboard Raziel held. She blinked, then smiled. 

“Thank you for the reminder!” And so Kelila walked away. 

However she was walking away, not to the exit, but to the surveillance booth. The surveillance booths were built to display the private video feeds of the private waiting rooms at the wedding venue, as they contained various important yet high-risk guests to the wedding. The feeds of the booths were activated by pressing a room ticket onto a stand. 

Raziel, in his panic, lurked behind Kelila. 

Kelila turned her head around and smiled, before extracting a ticket from her pocket. “Please excuse me. Before I go, I am going to check on my assigned angel and demon first.”

“May I check? This is my first time doing such an event, and I want to make sure it runs smoothly.“

Kelila studied Raziel. And then nodded. “Certainly!”

Once they entered a booth, past the heavy velvet curtains, Kelila pressed the ticket onto the stand inside. 

The image of the trio, along with Hastur, popped up on the screen, lighting up the booth. Kelila took a particular interest in the Antichrist. 

“Why is there another putto with them?”

Raziel prayed that Hastur would play this part well.

* * *

“You may be wondering why there is another putto here,” Aziraphale interjected.

Hastur put his clipboard down. Then he eyed Adam, and looked at the clipboard again nonchalantly. “No. I do not know why there is another putto here.”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Crowley said. “Michael assigned another putto earlier to keep an eye on us.”

Hastur gave a cough and peered at Adam. “So. What’s he wearing? He’s not wearing the uniform the putti got to wear.”

“That is just the standard uniform designed to help him blend in an Earthen environment."

"He's bloody tall for a putto," Hastur noted. "More like a lowercase archangel."

* * *

Kelila was right. The Antichrist seemed to be at an age approaching puberty, while most putto looked to be at about the age of children below 10. 

"Well. Many humans meet up with those two. And while we look like humans, it would be strange for someone who looks like a child to not change. So this particular putto was granted special corporations that _grows_.”

“Ah…” Kelila nodded, then she peered at the screen, and squinted. She seemed to be interested at the lone invitation in Aziraphale’s hand. 

* * *

“So Michael only sent _one_ invitation for the two of you,” Hastur observed.

Aziraphale blinked and smiled. “You… mean that there 

“Oh no, I’m holding Crowley’s,” Adam interjected, waving his own invitation.

Hastur raised an eyebrow. “Then what about yours? There needs to be an invitation for each of you.”

There was a brief period of silence. Then Adam made a fake gasp and passed the invitation into Crowley’s hand before frantically digging his hands into his pockets.

Hastur swatted his hand. “Oi, stop that. No need. I know it’s the putto’s.”

* * *

“Maybe the duo are likely only to be given one invitation, to show how Michael and Lucifer approves that they are together. They are the first openly-cooperative angel and demon couple, after all.“

Kelila let out a merry laugh. “Oh, yes! Enough so that the Almighty Herself made them immune to Hellfire and Holy water! I’ll have to take your word for it. But then she pointed towards a small black and white terrier. “Then what’s the Hellhound doing there?”

“That is the demon Crowley’s personal pet,” Raziel explained. “As very important guests, they are allowed to bring their pets to the wedding, especially if they’ll feel threatened. We don’t want them to be uncomfortable.”'

* * *

“Silly me,” giggled Aziraphale. “I had the waiver that Michael signed to bring him, but I can’t find it! Forget my head next.”

“Michael had a feeling that would be the case, yeah.” Hastur flipped through the many papers on his clipboard, then presented a document to Aziraphale. “Just sign here. Michael’s already signed it. If anyone asks what the mutt’s doing just show them this.”

Aziraphale widened his eyes and peered at the waiver. Michael's signature was written in it in an elaborate cursive, in bronze. “O-oh. Alright. Oh dear, I believe all my pens were confiscated.”

Hastur looked at Adam. “You. Putto. Give your assignments a pen. You all should have one.”

“Right.” In his panic Adam yanked out a pen that was not there before, then handed it to Aziraphale, who promptly signed the waiver before he passed it to Crowley. Just as soon as Crowley finished signing it, Hastur yanked the waiver out of the clipboard and shoved it into Aziraphale’s chest.

* * *

“There you go,” said Raziel. “They seem to be functioning well together. You can be at ease now”

Kelila grinned, her teeth a dazzling pearly white. “Thank you for your accompaniment, Mister Raziel! I will report the development to my head of department!”

"Oh, no need. Michael told them already. You can see on this form I have here.” He then presented Kelila the confirmation notice with Michael’s forged signature. However Kelila was silent. 

“Mister?”

“Yes?”

She tilted her head with a wide smile. “If you’ve gotten Michael’s signed notices yet was able to come back upstairs, shouldn’t you have a release form that permits you from leaving the wedding’s vicinity?”

Raziel blinked. She was good. Slowly, Raziel reached a note from behind the clipboard and presented it to Kelila. 

Kelila nodded enthusiastically. “Thank you! See you around!” One twirl later and she was gone.

* * *

Once Hastur left, the three exhaled. Crowley was tapping at his knee, cooking up a plan. Then he clicked. “Tell you what,” said Crowley. "They thought Adam was a putto? We'll make him a putto. Tell some that he’s the putto Michael assigned us, and tell others that he’s the putto originally assigned to us. The other putto had to resign, remember?” Crowley nodded and looked at Adam. “Think you can change your outfit into the uniforms of the angels?”

“Maybe.” Adam stood in the centre of the living room and concentrated. “It should be the same uniform as the other putti, right?”

“Same colours, just make yours look like scout outfits.” Aziraphale drew a sharp intake. “Right, they have sash with achievement pins!”

“Let’s say that Adam here is a new putto, and he’s working very hard to earn his first pin.”

“A very big and shiny one,” Adam affirmed with a nod. “Should I click, too?”

“It’s just a habit we do to flag the miracles we do, but just a wave or even a thought can do, really.”

Adam nodded. It took him a few tries, but at last his outfit morphed into the grey uniform of the putto, completed with copper buttons and a blank sash.

“Excellent!”

Adam could not help but frown. “The other angels and demons may think that I’m a putto, but Michael and Lucifer know what my face looks like.”

“You think you’d be ready to do surveillance miracles?”

Adam nodded, his sandy curls bobbing up and down. 

“Right, kiddo. Copy what I do.” Crowley crouched down, then placed his middle and index fingers on both temples. Adam followed suit. “Now close your eyes.” Adam did so. “Repeat after me: I have submarine radar vision.”

“I have submarine radar vision.”

“And really believe it! It’s like if you’re up there in the sky and peering at the ground… oop!” Adam had taken Crowley’s advice a little too literally and so started to float. Luckily Crowley was able to pull him back down. “Okay, okay. Er… plan B. Imagine you have an invisible drone up there that acts as your second pair of eyes.”

“It’s amazing! I can see everyone up there!” Adam frowned. “I can’t go too high though.”

“Maybe it’s the wards. Somehow. Can you see Michael and Lucifer?”

Adam frowned. “I need to zoom out. What if I go there…” his eyebrows raised up. She was stationed at an individual tent. “I see Michael! Labelling her right now…” Adam labelled Michael with a blue colour. He furrowed his eyebrows and tried finding Lucifer, but she did not seem to be anywhere within the immediate vicinity right now.

“Tag those other two angels from the tent just in case.”

Unfortunately he could not see them either. “Got it.”

“Oh, and Gabriel.”

Adam shifted to another tent and grinned when he spotted Gabriel, then tagged him with a purple colour. “Done.” Adam’s grin faltered. His mind wandered back to the miracle Asmodeus did at the terminal tent. What sort of miracle did he do? Did he hypnotise the guards to be fine with Adam? Did he edit their memory and make them think that Adam was a putto? Regardless, Adam tagged as many as he could see with an orange colour. 

“Maybe I can share it with you? Like with screensharing? To stop you two from meeting Michael and the others?”

“Yes! Great thinking!” Said Crowley. Adam nodded with a smile. 

“Okay… you should see the map whenever you close your eyesnow.”

The husbands closed their eyes and grinned.

“What about Dog?” Adam asked once he opened his eyes. “I don’t think you’d have a Hellhound that looks like the Antichrist’s.”

Crowley knelt down. “Tell you what. I don’t have a terrier. I have a chihuahua. Blonde all over, and has ears that look like pigtails.”

Dog yelped, then whined. Adam crouched down. “Come on, Dog. You can do it. You’re allowed to make adjustments, you just need to look different for a few hours.”

The Hellhound bowed his head in respect for his master. Then, Dog’s legs shrunk as its silhouette changed into that of a chihuahua. 

“What’s his name?” Aziraphale inquired.

“Well, what do you say, usher?”

“Wafer?” The Hellhound yapped in protest. “Alright, alright. Uh, Shortbread? Or Biscuit?” The Hellhound wagged its tail. 

“Biscuit it is,” Crowley announced. Yes, nothing suspicious. Just two pardoned wedding guests, the usher Michael sent who may or may not have been a backup, and Biscuit the Hellhound. Nothing suspicious at all.”

The three managed to walk out of the terminal tent without much other side-eyes. There were funny looks at the Hellhound, but Crowley showed them the waiver and they went about their ways. 

“Fantastic,” Aziraphale declared as they left the terminal tent. “Now we simply need to figure out our next actions-”

“There you are!” And then a spectacled angel dragged Crowley away.

“Wha- HEY!”

“Yeah, apologies for dragging you away. But we’re assigned to a project, and we’re already so late!” 

“A what?”

“Look at your invitation! There should be a timetable for a series of group activities! For you, you are meant to critique some compositions for the wedding from the music division!”

“It’s… true,” Adam confirmed as he looked at the invitation. 

“For how long?”

“An hour.”

“An hour!”

“Yeah!”

“Right. Let’s get this over and done with. Er, Biscuit! Follow me!”

“Yes,” Adam replied. “Come on! Follow your master!” 

The angel looked quizzingly at the chihuahua Hellhound, who trailed after Crowley. Crowley showed her the signed waiver.

“I… see. Does your dog bite?”

“Painfully. If someone bothers me too much.” Crowley turned around and shrugged at the duo. “See you in an hour.”

And so that left Aziraphale and Adam.

“I suppose that we should go to the dress code department, then?” Adam inquired. 

“Yes. So. Lead the way. Where to?”

Adam asked the invitation for directions, and a map flared up. “It’s nearby… hey, there’s a notice.” He cringed and looked at Aziraphale. “Sorry, but you need to take off your heels, too. 

“And walk there in my socks?!”

“And walk there in your socks. Sorry.”

Aziraphale sighed. Then he cringed as he took off his heels and put it on top of his bundle of clothes, toeing the moist grass with sock-covered feet. 

* * *

Hastur met with Ligur between the alleys of the tents and announced enthusiastically how he had not only managed to make the trio think he wasn't onto them, but he was able to make sure they had agreed to a good backstory. This celebration was short however as very soon the Antichrist, the pardoned angel and demon, and a disguised Hellhound emerged. The two hid inside the alley between the tents and watched in suspense as the trio left. Then, when they successfully roamed away from the area, they let out a breath. 

“Noticed anything suspicious?” Raziel asked.

“The two lovebirds? They’ve got one invitation between them.”

Raziel raised an eyebrow. “That’s odd… and the Antichrist?”

Hastur scoffed. “He tried to pass his one off as Crowley’s!”

“Oh yes, I saw.”

Hastur’s grin dropped and he blinked. “Y-you saw? What do you mean you saw? You were upstairs!”

“While I was stalling the putto she checked a monitor.”

The Duke blinked. “A lizard demon?”

“It’s a screen.” Blank reaction. “It’s an electronic.” Hastur rolled his eyes. “They show whatever’s happening in the waiting rooms.” A look of shock appeared on Hastur before his face curdled. “They are necessary. What if a mutiny happens? Might as well use all the tools at your disposal.”

Hastur looked at Raziel, skeptical, but he nodded. “So all that we need to do is to wait for them to piece the pieces together?” Hastur asked. “And let them roam like headless bugs?”

“They’re intelligent. Whoever wanted them here should be at this wedding. And they would leave clues as to how they should find them.”

“Yeah. Otherwise why bother summoning three directionless hooligans at all?” Hastur chortled a quiet laugh.

Ligur nodded, but froze when he looked at the position of the sun in the sky. He lifted his own invitation up, aligning the built-in sundial. “Oh my, I need to rotate to my next shift. Let’s meet every three hours after our shifts ends from now on. How is that?”

Hastur nodded. “Oh yeah. We can do that. The next shift after this one will be breaktime. What tent will you be at?”

“3A.”

Hastur grovelled. “I’m at 5C.”

Ligur gave him a sympathetic shrug. “Then we shall simply slip between the alleys again. Try finding which tent the trio’s sitting at. I’ll tell you if we need to change anything. Okay?”

“I… erhm… alright”

“Splendid.” Raziel nodded. “See you in three hours.” And then the angel walked away.

Hastur did not like angels. Not at all. Snooty little twits, all of them. And the great Lucifer should have more sense than to marry that wank-wings Michael because some head in the sky told her so. Michael probably did not even deliver the right type of Holy water. But if this bloody wedding was the only way he could openly be with Ligur again without the new Ligur rejecting him… then so be it. It was the only reason he even attended this blasted wedding, no matter how many angels he had to tolerate. No matter how much he suspected that Lucifer would uncover a secret plan that would foil this event as Hell’s victory. He did not expect Ligur to be here, that was all. But the lack of recognition in Ligur’s eyes stung.

That was the thing with Holy water. The stuff wiped you clean and you started over as what you were made. Heaven was never meant for him nor Ligur. Maybe they will never be truly together again. Maybe Ligur will never get his memories back. Even if this angel looked and acted like Ligur, the real Ligur was gone.

Hastur watched as the new Ligur, Raziel, marched to his post. 

“Right.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Screams this is so late 8O I might make this update once every two weeks from now on, since I’ve got a lot of other projects to unplug from my mind, soz ^^U
> 
> EDIT: so I found out that the original name for the putto, Kunya, wasn't a name at all but rather a honorific. Which is why it is now changed to Kelila. Always double check your research!


End file.
